Don't Turn Your Back On Me
by Sabella Black-Malfoy
Summary: She needed him, more than she needed her family, her sanity, everything. She needed him, and he walked away. Not a word said, not a conversation to be held, he just walked away. HPGW
1. Twists And Turns

Don't Turn Your Back On Me

She needed him, more than she needed her family, her sanity, everything. She needed him, and he walked away. Not a word said, not a conversation to be held, he just walked away.

"You don't understand!" she shouted, watching his retreating form. "I can't do this alone!"

But he continued to walk, the tears pouring down his face, mixing with the raindrops pouring from the angry, grey sky. He knew he should've stayed, he should have helped her get through it, but the truth was he was too scared. He was too scared he'd look back and see the pain in her eyes and melt. He was just too scared of her and the effect she had on him. He was too scared of their relationship to look back and see her body racking with sobs.

-

It had been almost a year since he walked out on me. I still love him, with all my heart, but I can't help but hate him at the same time. He doesn't have worries like I do, or responsibilities like I do. He doesn't have to wake up every morning and look at a perfect little girl who would never know her father. No, all he has to worry about was who was in his bed in the morning and who he was supposed to sleep with that night.

I walked into my office, dead tired. Elizabeth had woken up five times last night, guaranteed to leave me in a stupor for the rest of the day. I have a cold, from the lack of sleep, I'm two months behind on the baby's doctor bills (even though I work two jobs), from the diapers and other things the baby needs and I'm completely fed up with doing it alone.

There have been some upsides. Ron and Hermione have been generous enough to help me furnish the flat I live in, now it actually looks liveable, while Neville and Luna had given me their son's old crib and some old toys. Both Hermione and Luna have offered to watch Lizzy while I am at work, cutting child care costs. If it hadn't been for my friends, I know my daughter would have been put in a foster home.

I sat behind my desk and sighed. Since Luna's father died, the Quibbler had gone straight to hell. The new editor, Jack Newman had completely changed the way things are done, and now I don't even feel comfortable coming to work anymore, but I need the job. Badly. I tied my tired red hair back in a sloppy knot and began to sort through my assignments.

I always get more than anyone else in the office because I'm the only woman with enough self-respect to not date my boss. I told him that with a small child, dating was out of the question. But, instead of trying to understand like a normal person, he piles on the work, making me late to see my daughter every single day.

I managed to sort the stupid notes into piles. Things to do, things I can ignore and things I must do. The last note made my stomach lurch and my palms sweat, and I knew it would have to go in the Things I Must Do pile.

****

Interview with Harry Potter about victory in World Cup, date and time TBA.

My eyes watered. Even after he'd walked out on me, he still haunted my life. I can't escape him, even though he'd ran out on our life, never looking back for a split second. A tear slipped down my cheek, but I brushed it away quickly. No more crying over him. He'd taken the somewhat naïve, playful girl I had been and transformed her into a sensible, no-time-for-fun type woman. I hate him for it. He'd taken my innocence, in more ways than one, and that was one thing I couldn't ever get back.

"Weasley!"

I spun around in her chair, desperate to distract myself from my woes. It was my wonderful (note the sarcasm) boss. "Potter's at the Leaky Caldron. I told him I'd send a reporter down, and you're the first one that came to mind."

"Did you give him my name?" I asked, my heart racing. What ifs began racing through my mind, and I couldn't stop the shaking that began to plague my hands.

"No. I figured you'd want to tell him." He smiled smugly and walked away.

I felt like chucking a book at him. How dare he expect me to walk in and interview him. But I can't afford to lose this job, I don't even want to imagine what might happen to me and Lizzy if I was to lose this job.

I reapplied my makeup, changed my hair colour to blah brown and looked in the mirror. No more Ginny Weasley. I'm now Kirsten Mallory. Yes, Kirsten Mallory. It's a name I often use when dealing with people I know. It was too hard any other way. To face the people who know what my situation is and felt bad for me. I didn't want their pity, I don't need their pity. All I need is him, but he is out of the question. Forever.

After gathering the things I usually take to conduct interviews, I Apparated to the hotel. After asking the bartender and finding out where he would be, I cautiously began to make my way to the table he was waiting at. Even from behind I could tell he hadn't changed much. The same shaggy black hair I used to run my fingers through, the same tall figure I used to yearn for…

I pulled myself back to reality before I got too lost in the past by focusing on the chair opposite of him, which was occupied by a buxom blonde. No doubt his newest play thing, and I couldn't help the streak of jealousy that coursed through my veins. I managed to squash it, well almost all of it at least, and cleared my throat as I reached the table. The blonde, annoyed by the gesture, kissed him possessively on the cheek and shot me a glare. Harry hadn't seemed to notice, because he smiled at me and motioned for me to sit in the now unoccupied seat.

I sat down stiffly, laying my small briefcase on the table and pulling out a charmed tape recorder and a notepad with questions scrawled on it. I basically use the same set of questions for every interview, sometimes changing questions a bit to fit the person and situation better, but generally, they were the same so I just keep them written them on multiple pads of paper so I'm always ready.

He smiled lazily at me, his eyes roving my body. Something unidentifiable flashed in his eyes, but it was gone so fast, I wasn't even sure if it had been there in the first place. "I'm Kirsten Mallory," I told him, extending my hand.

He took it, and the minute his hand touched mine, a jolt ran through my body. He seemed to notice, arching an eyebrow in curiosity as he said, "Harry Potter. It's a pleasure."

He held onto my hand a moment longer than necessary, and suddenly, I began to feel nervous. He was still watching me, so I began the interview to escape the scrutiny of his gaze and the firm grip of his warm hand. "So, what's it like being the youngest Seeker in a century?" I almost wouldn't need to take notes because I already know the answer to this question.

He replied, "It's fun, I mean my whole life has been Quidditch since my first year at Hogwarts. It was one thing that belonged to me, one thing I was good at. Now that I think about it, the first thing I ever found out I was good at," he offered me a small smile, which I didn't return. "But it seems like everyone wants a piece of me. My coach, my trainer, the fans. Are you a fan of Quidditch?" he asked, suddenly zoning in on me. "Sorry to change the subject, but I like to know the people who interview me."

I crossed my legs nervously. "I grew up in a Quidditch oriented family," I replied while glancing over the next question. "What do you like to do in your free time?"

He sat back and studied me. "I love to travel, especially to exotic places. More specifically, the ones with beaches and oceans. What about you?"

I was caught off guard by his question. "Wha-What do you mean?" I asked stupidly, immediately regretting it.

"What do you do for fun? You aren't someone who's married to their career, are you?" he teased, leaning forward and looking into my eyes.

"I am, actually," I told him, holding my chin up proudly. "Now, back to you, rumour has it this is your last year playing. Is this true?"

He nodded. "Yes. I've decided that all I really want to do now is to settle down and maybe start a family."

I felt my anger begin to bubble over. A year ago, only one bloody year ago, he wasn't ready for a serious relationship, let alone ready to begin a family. He'd walked out on me the minute he'd found out I was pregnant, not saying anything, not sending anything, not even bothering to find out if I had delivered a boy or a girl. Now he was ready? Is this some type of sick joke? Only one bloody year later and suddenly he's mature enough to handle a family? "Oh," I replied politely, trying not to boil over. "Any romantic interests?" The question was more for my own peace of mind rather than for the magazine, but it had to be asked either way.

He gave a sort of half shrug and grinned. "The blonde I was with earlier, Cassandra Leaks, we've been dating seriously for about a year now, I'm thinking about settling with her."

My stomach dropped and even though I hadn't eaten anything, I felt sick. He wanted children by some fake blonde that he had only known for less than ayear more than my daughter? His daughter? I wanted to bolt, go home, take a potion and pretend today had never happened. I wanted to forget Harry Potter ever existed, let alone shared my bed at one time. Every kiss, every touch came rushing back with such intensity that I thought I might pass out. "I have to go," I mumbled, swiping everything into my bag. I stood and tried to smile. "It was nice meeting you."

"Are you okay?" he asked, standing as I whirled around and began to weave my way towards the doors. I was too upset to Apparate, I knew that, but knowing he was following me was driving me crazy. "Will you be all right?" he asked, cornering me in a corner. I raised my eyes to meet his, and his expression changed, his voice coming out in a shocked, hoarse whisper.

"Ginny?"

-

Ok... So, do tell me if it's bad. And if anyone ever flames me using the terms: 'llama balls' again, I'll hunt you down and kill you. I mean, is there not anymore descriptive words in the English or any other other language? 'Llama balls' isn't exactly painting a picture of how terrible it is for me, and I'm sure it doesn't for a lot of people. That being said: you may use anything ANYTHING to flame me, but if it's 'llama balls', pray I don't find you.


	2. Confrontation

Can we say mixed response? Wow, I didn't expect people to have such strong opinions about this. Oh well, I love that ya'll tell me what you like about it, and even the things you don't like, because they make me think about where I want to take the story. Thanks! And to **sapphireknight**- I reread it and couldn't find where I repeated myself. If it's not too much trouble, could you maybe point it out? I'll go back and fix it if you could do that. And again, to **Stella Blu**, your review made me think 'I hate the stories where women go back to their dumb, cheating boyfriend/husband'. So, I'm going to try not to make it like that, I promise. Now, onto chapter 2...

-

He stood there, an arm on either side of me, his mouth open in shock. I thought he knew, because of the questions and everything, but he obviously didn't. He was opening and closing his mouth like a dumb fish, and I couldn't help but feel proud. Nice to know I still have that effect on him. Not that it matters now or anything.

"I really have to go," I told him, trying to push past him.

He didn't budge. "When were you going to tell me?" he ordered, grabbing my shoulders. "Were you even going to tell me it was you?"

I didn't answer. I just avoided his gaze before something hit me, hard. **He **walked out on **me.** Right now, he's making me feel like I'm the one who left his heart in pieces. No, after everything he's done to me and my daughter, I'm not about to let him make me feel guilty for doing the right thing. Well, at least what I firmly believe was the right thing. "I have to go," I repeated, pushing his hands off me and walking towards the door as fast as I could.

I heard his heavy footsteps behind me as he followed me out the door and into the busy alley. "You've changed," he called after me, desperation beginning to creep into the edges of his voice. "Ginny, what happened to you?"

I stopped short, whirling around to look him in the eye. "I changed?" I replied, my voice low. "If anything, you changed." I watched as his eyes clouded over dangerously, but I continued my little rant. "The Harry Potter I knew and fell in love with was loyal. He stood by people when they needed him. The Harry Potter I knew and was in love with didn't cut out when things got hard. The Harry Potter I knew," it was then I realized I was only centimetres from his face. I don't remember how I got this close, but I really didn't care. "Wouldn't have left an innocent baby without a father. Who ever you are, you aren't him. And as far as what happened to me, I had a baby. I grew up. I fell out of love."

He swallowed hard, and I swore I saw tears in his eyes. "Gin, I'm sor-"

"I don't want to hear it!" I screamed. When he had first left me, I wanted him to come back and beg for my forgiveness. Then, after a month, I wanted him to come back so I could beat the shit out of him and then, maybeask why. After six months I wanted him to come back so I could tell him to go to hell. Now, I didn't even want him to come back, I just wanted him to go to hell. "Save your sorries for someone who actually gives a damn." I turned around and called over my shoulder, "And don't call me Gin."

I began to walk away, but his voice interrupted my thoughts again. "I want to see the baby."

I let out a dry laugh, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "You don't even know her name. Some father you are." I continued walking, imagining the look on his face.

I didn't need him anymore, I realized. And it was the most terrifying thing I'd ever come to terms with.

-

"Thanks Luna," I said, picking up Lizzy. I had told her everything, and much to my relief, she didn't tell me I was wrong, she just listened to me cry and scream about the whole Harry ordeal. Currently, she was watching Frankie, her and Neville's seven month old crawl across the floor towards us. "It's just been a bad day."

"I'm sorry," Luna replied, watching her little blonde son crawl towards her. He grabbed onto her pant leg and began trying to climb up her leg. "I can't imagine." Neville walked through the doorway and kissed her cheek. I was happy for them, I really was, but it was hard to watch their perfect life when mine was such a mess.

I smiled at my best friend and her husband. "I hope you never have to."

After hugging Neville and Luna and kissing the top of Frankie's head, I flooed to my own flat, sighing as I walked into the messy living room. Working two jobs left my flat in a state of constant disarray. Personally, I don't mind, but every time Mum comes over, she insists on helping me clean, the Muggle way being as I had a couple of Anti-Magic wards set up, excluding the Floo network, of course. I don't really remember why I did that, but I do recall thinking it was for the best.

I set Lizzy in the crib set up in the kitchen and began to make dinner. Well, dinner for me, warming the bottle for Lizzie. She was at the point where she could smile and coo at the ceiling, which I had painted with little birds and stars. It may not have been magical, but she loves looking at it.

I had just set my food on the table when the doorbell rang. I was upset, one because I was starving and two because I had to leave Lizzy alone in the crib. I pulled the apron off and draped it carelessly over the settee while grumbling some choice words before unlocking the door and opening it.

I resisted the urge to slam it again.

He was leaning in my doorway like it was the most natural thing in the world, and he even smiled at me when I opened the door.

Who the hell does he think he is anyway?

"What?" I snapped, blocking the doorway from him coming in.

"I came to see her," he replied casually. "I want to make things right."

I was shell-shocked. "Make what right?" I asked stupidly, immediately slapping my brain. I sounded ridiculous.

"I want to be a father."

My eyes began to water. Not from his touching statement, but from the fact he thought that this would be that easy. He wasn't coming back into my life without a damn good explanation. "No," I told him. "You will never go near her."

He stepped closer to me, and I moved back to keep my distance. If I didn't, I knew I wouldn't survive this conversation. "Why not?"

"I'm not going to let you hurt her like you hurt me," I replied coldly. "You ripped my heart out, stomped on it and put it back in backwards. You left me alone, to raise a baby by myself, and now, after the hard part's done, you want back in. This isn't a day job Harry, this is for life, and you just gave up! No fight, no reason, you just gave up. You are such a self-centred bastard, I hate you!"

He dropped his smile, and his eyes went wide. I knew I had hurt him. "Ginny, I was afraid-"

"You were afraid? I'm the one who had to go through pregnancy alone! I was the one who had to face single parenthood! I was the one," I dropped my voice to a whisper, "who had to face the rest of my life without the love of my life. Just because you're back doesn't mean I'm happy about it." I pushed his shoulders and he backed out of the doorway. "Get out."

His face became alight with anger. "Ginny, I never had parents! How the hell was I supposed to raise a baby the right way when my childhood was a living hell? My aunt and uncle used to beat me and lock me in closets for Merlin's sake! I didn't want to treat my child like that! She deserves better than that, you deserve better than that. You deserve better than me." His shoulders slumped and he began to cry.

I'd never seen Harry Potter cry. Even after he defeated Voldemort, he remained calm, cool and collected, especially when I was a nervous wreck. How Voldemort could not scare him, but a little baby could was beyond me. I'd rather face Lizzy's stinky diapers than Voldemort's breath any day. "Didn't you see?" I asked gently, surprising myself by cupping his cheek with my hand softly. "That was why you had me."

I knew he was sorry. It was written all over his face, the pain in his eyes ripped my heart apart again. I ran my thumb along his trembling lower lip and a tear fell down his cheek. My resolve began to crumble. "I will never forgive you," I told him sadly. "You should have realized I would've always been there to help you." His face fell even more. "But," I added, wanting that look on his face gone. That wasn't the Harry Potter I knew. "I might let you see your daughter if you do three things for me."

"What?" he asked hopefully.

"You swear on all you hold holy you will never, ever abandon Lizzy," I responded. "Because I will hurt you if you do. Secondly, you go sort through your problems before you even think about being near her. I don't want you to suddenly have second thoughts about this, because I don't think I could survive you leaving again, and I know Lizzy couldn't. And dump that blonde. She gives me the creeps."

He nodded solemnly before placing his hand over his heart. "I promise. Cass and I weren't really dating anyway. Everything was made up by the press, I'm just supposed to keep the appearance up."

The first real smile in a year graced my features, and I couldn't help but revel in it. "I'm not letting you see her until you sort through your parenting issues," I reminded him, reaching for the doorknob.

He seemed hurt by it, but I think he understood what I was trying to say. "I'm going to schedule an appointment with a shrink this week," he promised. "In fact, I'll let you get back to your dinner and go do it now."

I moved to close the door, tears in my eyes. Before it shut, he stopped it. "Thanks Gin."

I simply smiled sadly and let the door shut. When closed, I leaned against it and let the effects of what I had just done wash over me.

I really hope I did the right thing.

-

I hope Ginny doesn't sound like some woman running back to her stupid ass, dirt bag boyfriend/husband, but I really believe that every child needs a father, and I hope that point came across. If it didn't, I'm a crappy writer, eh? Hee.


	3. Wasn't Enough

AHHHH! It's that time of the year again. The time when all the teachers pile on extra assignments,applications for all your CP/Honors classesand work you to the bone while you're just trying to keep afloat. Sorry this update was so late, but, I'm sure you all understand. And, only 60-something more days till I leave the hellhole they call SCHOOL! YAY! Thanks to all my loyal reviewers, you make me get my butt in gear when it comes to updating and thinking up new ideas. Kudos to you, and hope ya'll enjoy school. (Yeah, sure)

-

"Ginny, it's been six months," Hermione told me sadly. "I don't know what you're expecting, but by now it would almost have to be a miracle."

_She was right,_ I admitted to myself, sighing as I pushed the last book onto the top shelf. I was expecting a miracle, I mean, what person would give up a life of carefree whims for a life of responsibilities.

I stepped down from the ladder and dusted off my pants. I'd given up working at the Quibbler once Hermione bought a bookshop in Muggle London. Lizzy and I had moved to the flat above it, so I opened up in the morning, Hermione, who was pregnant, could come in whenever she wanted and I'd be the one to close up. The arrangement worked well enough, I didn't have to pay a babysitter for Lizzy and it was like having a library all to myself, besides the books Hermione chose to take home.

Unfortunately, this is Lizzy's first Christmas, and besides the monthly support checks, I haven't heard a word from Harry. When he left the first time, he wrote me a one thousand pound check, but I donated it to one of the wards at St. Mungo's. It just wasn't the same. It was like saying, 'Sorry I don't care enough to be there, hope this money makes up for it.' It just isn't the same, despite the intention behind it. So far I've kept the checks he had sent in an old shoebox in the back of my closet, not a single one cashed.

Hermione, Neville and Luna are the only ones who know about the second chance I gave Harry. My brothers, no matter how well meaning they may have been, wanted to kill Harry after he left me the first time, so I figured telling them may not be the smartest thing. I knew I'd have to tell them eventually, but until I knew for sure, I wasn't going to say anything.

I sat at one of the café tables by the window and watched as the snowflakes drifted down before getting camouflaged by the rest when they hit the ground. Hermione pulled a chair up next to me. "Do you think he's coming back?" she asked softly, handing me a cup of herbal tea.

"I honestly don't know."

We sat in silence until she asked again, "I don't understand what you did. I mean, I loved Harry to death, being as he was my best friend, but he walked out on you. On the life you could have led. How can you even begin to imagine forgiving him?"

Suddenly, I felt older, wiser. Like I had walked a thousand lives before this. "I'm never going to forgive him," I replied, trying to find the right words for how I was feeling. "But, I have to look at the bigger picture. Elizabeth deserves to know her father, I mean, how is she going to feel when she sees her cousins with their fathers? She at least deserves to get to know him."

"She had her uncles," Hermione retorted. "I know Ron wouldn't have thought twice about being a father figure to her."

"But it's not his job," I reminded her. I reached out and patted her slightly protruding stomach. "It's his job to be a father to this one and an uncle to mine." I avoided her questioning gaze and began to trace the rim of my cup with my fingers.

Hermione didn't say anything after that, even though I know she opened her mouth more than once. After a good fifteen minutes of silence, I stood, said my goodbyes and kissed her cheek before going upstairs. I watched from the stairs as she slowly gathered her things and left. I ran back downstairs to lock up, and then shut off the lights and went back up to my flat.

I continued up to Lizzy's room, watching as she slept. At nine months old, she had began to walk, meaning I had to chase her every which way she went. The only upside was that she slept so much better now that she could wear herself out. She slept on her stomach, thumb in her mouth, auburn curls spread out around her. I knew that if she was to open her eyes, they would sparkle in such a way that would put light reflecting off snow to shame. She was beautiful, my little girl.

I couldn't imagine my life without her. Sure, it probably would've been easier, but I wouldn't change a thing. I reached into the crib and pushed her hair aside, letting my fingers linger on her hairline. I pulled the handmade blanket Mum used to tuck me into bed up around her before leaving. I kept her door slightly ajar, as I did every night. She was my alarm clock, waking me at five AM every morning. If the door was shut, I wouldn't hear her.

It was particularly cold tonight, so I pulled on a pair of heavy flannel pyjamas and crawled into bed. I wasn't surprised when I couldn't fall asleep, so I lay there, staring at the ceiling. The lights from the street danced across the ceiling, highlighting the cracks. My eyes traced them, from one side of the room to another until my head ached from the concentration I was exerting.

I stumbled out of bed, desperate to cure my insomnia. Pulling on a fuzzy blue dressing gown, I tiptoed down the stairs and poured me a cup of water. I heated it and steeped the tea bag in the hot water and watched the steam curl up from the water and fade away.

Almost like my relationship with Harry.

I knew it was too far gone to even attempt to fix it. Too much had been said and done, and it was all unforgivable. He wasn't going to come back into my life without a miracle, and that wasn't something in the near future. My daughter did, however, have the right to see him, so he would have access to her life. I had to set boundaries so I'd know when he went too far. If he ever got here, that is.

My mind began to wonder to the things I only thought about when no one else was around. If I hadn't had that interview with him that day, would he have felt the same way? Would he have even come looking for me? Or would he have just regarding me as another skeleton in the closet? These questions made my stomach clench and my head ache. Was a single man really worth this?

Before I could answer the question, a soft knock on the door greeted my ears. It was so soft, I wasn't even sure I had heard it until it was repeated.

I shuffled across the cold floor, placing my cup on the counter before unlatching the door. Snow breezed in and melted on the floor as I pulled open the door.

"Hi."

His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. Both hands were shoved into the pockets of his black wool coat, and it was obvious he hadn't shaved in two or three days. Snowflakes clung to his hair, and he pulled a hand out of his pocket long enough to run it through his hair nervously. We must have stared at each other for five minutes before he asked, "Can I come in?"

I shuffled aside, granting him access. He stepped in, head down hands in his pockets. I shut the door against the cold wind. He turned around as soon as he was three paces in, and I scuttled to the coffee machine and quickly made him a cup. I waved my hand in the direction of the table and chairs I had been sitting at earlier, and when I heard his footsteps moving towards it, I placed my hands on the counter to steady myself. _Breathe._

I grabbed the cup and shakily made my way to the table. He was slumped in the chair, tracing invisible patterns into the surface. I placed the steaming cup in front of him before collapsing into the seat across from him.

He took the cup and took a sip before beginning. "Did you get the checks?"

I nodded and he continued. "I wanted to make sure she could have everything she needed."

"Thanks," I mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

He took a deep breath. "I visited one of those therapists in America."

"And?" I was slightly amazed by the calmness of my voice. "What did she say?"

"That I was too worried about the future and wasn't concentrating on the present. I was too wrapped up in myself and how I would have to deal with everything instead of looking at the bigger picture." He paused, as if trying to find the right words. "She was very, um, blunt about things. She said unless I confronted my fears about parenthood, I would always remain a coward and completely withdrawn from reality. She told me that just because I was famous, that didn't excuse me from anything. I still had to face the facts and deal with consequences."

"She sounds wonderful," I replied sarcastically, reaching for my long forgotten cold tea. I mumbled a quick warming spell and it was steaming again. I took a sip and watched as he fiddled with the worn cuffs on his coat. "So are you ready to accept it?" I wasn't quite sure what 'it' was. The fact he had a daughter or the fact our relationship was completely non-existent. I guess it could be either.

He didn't reply right away, and my heart sank. He wasn't ready. I should have known, I mean, if he was ready, he'd be in Lizzy's room, he'd wouldn't look so lost. Leave it to me to get my hopes up and then have them crushed mercilessly. But if he wasn't ready, what the hell was he doing back?

"I think I am."

My head shot up. "What?" I stammered, trying to grasp what he had just said.

"I think I'm ready," he repeated. "I'm ready to see her."

"Are you sure?" I asked cautiously. "Because after this, there is no going back. You can't just take the easy way out after this, because I just might kill you."

He nodded. "I understand, and right now there's nothing more I want to do than see my daughter. Our daughter," he amended quickly. "I want this Gin."

"Don't call me that," I snapped, my patience suddenly disappearing. There were too many memories associated with that name, and every time he said it I wanted to jump into his arms. I wasn't about to let my guard down. Yet. "Just because I'm letting you into her life doesn't mean I'm going to let you back into mine. You've done too much, and frankly, I think you lost the right to call me that when you left."

"I'm sorry," he replied softly, bowing his head. "You're right, I just…" he trailed off, raising his head so his eyes met mine. "I just want things to be okay between us. I don't expect things to be like before I left, but I want things to work out. For Lizzy's sake," he added quickly, not breaking eye contact.

I didn't reply for two reasons. The first being, if I was to reply, I'd lose all self control and break down hysterically. The second being, I wanted things to work out too, but not for Lizzy's sake. The truth was I missed having him in my life. I missed everything about him and I knew he was sorry, but sometimes sorry isn't enough. I guess sometimes love isn't enough.

I regained my composure and tried to smile. "Come on," I said, standing. "I think there's someone you should meet."

-

And viola. The end. Anyone who wants to think of an ending is welcome to, but being as I think you all have wonderful ideas about how it should end, I might write several alternative endings if you give some insight to what you'd like to see happen. Toodles.


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